


From The Woods

by buccisbarrettes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Daryl Dixon is Bad at Feelings, During Canon, F/M, Fantasy elements, Gen, Mutual Pining, Mythology References, Other, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, author replies to comments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27292876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buccisbarrettes/pseuds/buccisbarrettes
Summary: Daryl encounters a woman in the woods by the quarry while out hunting
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Daryl made his way through the woods as he usually did, as silent as possible. He was following the trail of a deer, the tracks were fresh enough to tell him that it had passed through the area around an hour or two ago. He hoped that none of the geeks had gotten to it before he could.   
He crossed into a small clearing of trees and stopped. Not because the trail went cold, but because of what he heard. Or, more accurately, what he didn't hear. There weren't any birds overhead or in the trees, or the scurrying of squirrels or other critters along the floor. Something was nearby.   
With his bow already in the firing position, Daryl surveyed his surroundings. Movement out of his peripheral vision to his right caught his eye.   
Halfway concealed behind a tree was a woman. She had the same expression the deer would probably have if he caught it, Daryl thought.   
Daryl lowered his crossbow slightly.   
Her long black hair fell down her back and starkly contrasted the white dress she was wearing. Her feet were bare yet still free of mud or dirt as well. She couldn't have been out here long, there was no way she was living in the woods and not having some dirt on her, Daryl thought.   
They continued to just stare at one another, Daryl’s blue eyes clashing with her brown ones.  
Daryl swallowed heavily, the afternoon heat clinging to him like a second skin. He felt like he should say something. Maybe ask her who she wasn't and what she was doing out here alone, if she was in fact alone, if she was bit, what her name was, anything.   
Yet, the hunter found that he was unable to speak or move, his feet rooted to the ground, just transfixed by the depth of her gaze.  
His trance was broken when suddenly she turned and ran. She was remarkably fast, maybe even faster than any deer that Daryl has seen before.   
“H-Hey!” He cried out belatedly. She was gone.  
“The hell are you yellin’ at?” Came the voice of Daryl's brother, Merle from behind him.  
Daryl shook his head and stalked off towards camp.  
“Nothin’”   
Daryl didn't know why he and Merle hadn't robbed the camp of survivors they were with yet. But for some reason the two brothers seemed to have wordlessly agreed that their plan was not to be happening, at least not yet. So Merle ended up going on the run back to the city with some of the others, as ordered by Shane.

Daryl did not like the default leader of the rag tag group. He was a cop, well he used to be, but in Daryl's eyes, once a cop always a cop. He also didn't think the highly of the guy who was screwin’ his supposedly best friends widow, but that was none of his business. He just wished that Shane and Lori were quieter when they snuck off into the woods. They were scaring away all the game.   
Daryl headed out once more in search of food. He'd set some traps with some odds and ends he found around camp and went to check on them.   
That's when he found her again. She was crouching, trying to figure out how best to undo the trap that caught the squirrel without hurting herself. Her black hair was messily tied back, some strands falling loose and framing her dirty and blood splattered face. It was walker blood. Her clothing was worn and almost tattered, covered in so much dirt and blood Daryl could hardly distinguish the original colour of the garments.   
Daryl considered raising his crossbow at her, but seeing as the girl didn't seem to have a weapon he saw no point.  
She whirled around once she heard his approach.   
She sprang to her feet and drew out a small pocket knife, pointing it at Daryl, he almost scoffed at her. It was hardly snitching more than a glorified butter knife.   
Her grip on the thing was shaky too, she was probably hungry.   
“Look, I ain't ‘bout to fight a girl that's half dead already,” Daryl stated.  
The girl merely gripped her knife tighter, she lunged at Daryl, slashing at him, which he deftly dodged. The girl crashed onto the forest floor and stayed down.  
After a moment and she hadn't gotten up, Daryl frowned.  
“Hey,” he said, no response. He nudged the girl with his foot. Still nothing.   
Heaving a sigh, Daryl slung his crossbow over his back and knelt beside the girl. He carefully rolled her over.   
She was still breathing, albeit shallowly.   
Daryl ran a hand through his hair. He was a son of a bitch, but he wasn't the son of a bitch to murder an unarmed unconscious girl.   
He weighed his options. If he brought her back to camp and she was bit, Shane would have his head, on the other, if she stayed out here by herself she was bound to get bitten.  
Swallowing down the discomfort, Daryl quickly checked the girl over for bites. He felt guilty lifting her clothing to look but she was too caked in walker blood and grime for him to tell at a glance if she was clear or not.

The entire time he lugged her back to the camp Daryl cursed himself. He wondered what his brother would say. Probably call him a pussy, or maybe some jibe about him only being able to pick up chicks when they're knocked out. Knowing Merle it would probably be the latter.  
“Hey woah what the hell Dixon!” Shane called out when the hunter emerged from the woods with the girl in his arms.  
Shane looked like he wanted to shoot the redneck.  
“The hell did you do to her?!” He growled.  
“I ain't do nothin’!” Daryl replied with equal venom.

“Oh so she was like this when you found her?” Shane challenged.  
Daryl shifted from foot to foot, adjusting his grip on the girl in his arms.  
“Nah, but she fainted before I could ask her any questions!” He replied.  
Shane scowled but before he could say anything the rest of the group was crowding around.  
“Get her in the RV, we'll take a look at her,” Dale offered.  
“Oh my lord,” Carol gasped, looking at all the blood and dirt covering the woman.  
“No no no, not yet Dale,” Shane said. “What if she's been bitten? We can't just bring random people into camp!”   
“I checked her!” Daryl replied “she ain't got no bites or scratches,”   
Shane gave Daryl an incredulous look.  
“You telling me that you checked under her clothes for bites?”   
Daryl knew it was a loaded question. If he said no Shane wouldn't let the girl in, if he said yeah then the rest of camp would probably see him as some degenerate pervert.   
“I didn't look cuz I wanted to! I knew you wouldn't let anyone help her if you didn't know if she was bit or not. So I'm tellin’ you, she ain't bit,” Daryl replied, his eyes darting from Shane's face to Dale’s.  
“He's telling the truth Shane,” Dale piped up, somewhat vouching for the hunter. “Look he's doing a good deed by helping this girl, don't make it harder than it has to be,” the older man reasoned.  
“Fine.” Shane grunted. “But if she's infected, that's on your head Dixon,”   
Daryl gave Shane one last glare before following Dale to the RV.

Daryl set the girl down in the bed in the RV as Dale instructed him. Once he did so he headed to exit the vehicle.  
“Where are you going?” Dale asked him.  
“Back to huntin’,” Daryl replied without a backwards glance.  
“You're just going to leave her here?” Dale asked, he sounded somewhat affronted at Daryl's behaviour.  
“Y’already said I did the damn good deed of bringin’ her here. What? Am I s’posed to sit by her until she wakes up or somethin’?” The hunter retorts.  
Dale let out a disappointed sigh.   
“Ideally yes,” the older man said slowly, as if he were spelling something out for a child. “You are the only person at camp she's seen before. Don't you think it would be a bit comforting for her to see a familiar face?”   
Daryl paused for a moment, thinking. He shook his head with a scoff.  
“She'll be fine,” he grunted. “If she can last out there for days with just that stick of a knife she'll do fine around y'all. ‘Sides, I gotta go back out there if y'all want actual food sometime soon.”   
Dale couldn't argue with him there, Daryl and Merle were the only successful hunters of their group, as fishing in the quarry hadn't yielded any results. Before Dale could say anything else, Daryl had already walked out of the RV and was making his way back to the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl is given some cryptic advice after formally meeting the girl from the woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you're enjoying the story thus far, please feel free to leave comments and feedback as it is greatly appreciated :)

Daryl returned to the spot where he found the girl the second time, taking the squirrel that his trap had caught and attaching it to a string. 

He paused and thought for a moment. 

The tracks the girl had left were fresh enough for him to probably find where she was coming from. 

He considered following them to find out if she had a camp, but thought better of it. Why the hell would she have been wandering around trying to steal from his traps if she had her own food supply? 

Although she  _ could  _ have some valuable things left behind. It wasn't like he could run to a store anymore to get something he'd need.

Daryl decided to follow the trail  _ after  _ he'd checked a few of his other traps in the area.

After grabbing a few more squirrels from the traps Daryl made his way to backtrack to wherever the girl had come from.

After what seemed like ages, he came upon the small campsite that she must have been using. There wasn't much, the remains of a small fire, the bones of some small birds, some nut shells, and a backpack.

Daryl unzipped the larger compartment and found some clothing; a man's shirt, women's pants, underwear, and some socks. The middle compartment had an empty metal water bottle, and a leather bound journal. 

The smallest and last compartment had a wallet and a box of matches. Daryl opened the wallet, there was a picture of the girl and a guy probably around Merle's age. Probably her boyfriend or something Daryl assumed. There wasn't any cash but the coin compartment had a couple nickels and dimes and some other currencies that Daryl couldn't recognize or the coin was too worn down to make out.

If it were any other time Daryl would have pocketed the change, but he didn't see money being a viable currency anytime soon. 

Daryl rifled around a little more out of curiosity, there were no ID cards or credit cards in the wallet, just the coins and that picture. 

Daryl was pissed. He felt cheated. The least he could get was an answer to who the hell that girl was even if none of her gear was useful to him. 

He considered leaving the pack and heading back to camp but decided to sit for a while and take a break. 

The hunter made himself comfortable leaning against a tree and closing his eyes for a moment. He could allow himself this one moment of peace. No Merle telling him what to do or dragging him along with a stupid plan, no Shane barkin’ orders at him, and no one else giving him a headache with their constant need to talk all the damn time. 

Just peace and quiet. 

Daryl allowed his mind to wander, which only got so far as him wondering how that girl back in Dale’s RV was. There was only one pair of tracks at this campsite, so she was definitely alone. What happened to the guy in the picture with her? 

The light rustle of the underbrush alerted Daryl to a nearby presence. His eyes snapped open. So much for peace and quiet, he thought. 

Daryl slowly got up from his sitting position and shifted into a low crouch. He maneuvered his crossbow from his back into his arms, making sure that a bolt was notched in the firing position. 

There was another rustle as whatever was approaching came closer towards Daryl. He stood, hoping that whatever was approaching could be something that they could eat.

He waited, crossbow poised to fire.

Minutes passed, and there was nothing. 

Daryl took a few steps closer to where the rustling had come from, but couldn’t see or hear anything.

He sighed in frustration, walking closer to where he heard the sound brushing away the branches and shrubs only to see nothing but more forestry. 

Just as he was about to curse his bad luck, Daryl spotted deer tracks. Maybe that’s what he had just scared it off. He followed the tracks hoping to snag some venison in the near future. 

He followed the tracks for hours, but the damned thing seemed to always be two steps ahead. He managed to get two of his arrows in it’s flank, but the injuries didn’t seem to slow it down. Daryl decided to hunker down for the night in the woods than try to trek back to camp in the gathering dark. 

He made a low fire for himself and skinned and cleaned one of the squirrels he’d caught along the way. 

He gazed into the fire as his meal cooked. 

He wondered what Merle was doing. Probably raising hell in Atlanta for the others. Daryl wasn’t the biggest fan of his older brother, Merle was unstable with a mean streak when antagonized. Daryl just knew better than to get on his brother’s bad side, he’d seen what had happened to people who did that. Usually they lost some teeth at least. 

Daryl didn’t sleep when he was out in the woods alone, but he allowed himself to rest in that half asleep half alert state of mind he had come to know very well over the past few years. Drifting around with Merle wasn’t exactly how he had seen his life panning out, but he didn’t exactly plan much either. Now with the dead walking he didn’t see much reason to start planning now. 

The hours passed and the fire slowly began to die. By the time the first light of dawn illuminated the trees, Daryl began making his way back to the quarry. The deer was thankfully also headed in that direction, Daryl was hoping that he would catch up with it sometime soon. He had the girl’s pack slung over one of his shoulders. He thought he might as well bring it to her and avoid someone having to go back and fetch it, that someone probably being him. 

When he arrived near the camp, he was greeted by the scene of the deer he was tracking being ripped open by a walker that the men of the camp had dispatched. 

“Son of a bitch!” Daryl exclaimed exasperatedly. “That’s  _ my _ deer!”

He came up behind the walker that had spoiled his kill,

“Look at it.” His voice dropped a bit in disappointment, “All gnawed on by this filthy, disease-bearing, motherless, poxy, bastard!” With each insult, Daryl landed a kick on the corpse’s body. 

He hated wasting time and resources, he hated failing a hunt, and he  _ hated _ the damn smell of those rotting fuckers.

“Calm down son, that’s not helping.” Dale said

Daryl glared at him, advancing, “What do you know about it old man?!” he asked, getting in Dale's face. “Why don’t you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond.”

Daryl turned back to the deer and began taking his arrows out of it. 

“I’ve been tracking this deer for miles,” He didn’t know why he was still talking, or why the camp was still gathered around him, but some part of him felt like he needed to explain himself somehow. 

“I was gonna drag it back to camp,” Daryl continued. “Cook us up some venison.” He turned to face the others. 

“What do you think? We can cut up around this chewed part here?” he asked, thinking someone would answer. 

“I would not risk that,” was Shane’s reply. 

“That’s a damn shame,” Daryl sighed. “Well I got some squirrel, about a dozen or so. That’ll have to do.”

As he was about to leave the group that had assembled around the deer and the corpse, the decapitated head began moving. 

Amy and Andrea left the scene, Amy almost gagging on the spot. 

Daryl rolled his eyes and shot an arrow through the eye of the moving head. 

“C’mon people what the hell? It’s gotta be the brain,” he scolded. “Don’t y’all know nothin’”

He made a second attempt to leave before Dale piped up again. 

“That girl you brought back is up now. I think you should go talk to her.” 

Daryl frowned. 

“Why?”

It was Dale’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You’re the one who brought her here,”

“Yeah, but that don’t make me her damn babysitter!” Daryl retorted.

“I’m not saying that,” Dale reasoned. “I just think that as the person who brought her here, you have a bit of… responsibility for her.” 

Daryl eyed the deer as he thought. 

Dale let out a sigh. 

“At the very least I’m sure she would appreciate it,” the old man said, trying a different angle to reach the hunter.

It did not have the intended effect. 

“The hell do I care what she’ll appreciate? She should  _ appreciate _ still bein’ alive!”

“Can you please just talk to her Dixon?” Shane snapped, running a hand over his face. 

Daryl knew that Shane only did that when he was getting annoyed, and with that shotgun in his hand he didn’t want to annoy him anymore. Not that he was scared of the cop, but Daryl just didn’t feel like getting into a brawl, especially after all that time out in the woods with minimal food and water. 

“Fine.” Daryl grunted, handing the string of squirrels that was slung over his back to Dale. “Keep an eye on those,” he said before stalking off in the direction of the RV.

Daryl swung open the door and walked in, stopping short when he saw the girl awake and sitting up, braiding her hair into a long plait down her back. 

She was cleaner now, looking more like the first time he’d seen her. Her face was free of the dirt and gore that covered it at their last encounter, and she was wearing fresh clothes. He assumed they were Amy or Carol’s as they were a bit too small for the taller woman. 

Her big eyes met his, which he averted. 

Daryl took the backpack off his shoulder and threw it at the girl’s feet. 

Her eyes went from the pack at her feet back up to the hunter who was avoiding her gaze. 

“That yours?” Daryl asked. 

He didn’t know why he was asking. He knew it was hers. 

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice was low, he couldn’t tell if it was from not talking for a while or if it was naturally like that. 

“Thank you,”

Daryl looked up at her, surprised that she’d bothered to thank him. 

“‘S fine,” he shrugged. “Was there on the way back,”

“I wasn’t talking about the bag,” she replied. “I meant… thanks for bringing me here, and not killing me.”

Daryl looked at her incredulously. 

“Why the hell would I kill you?”

She shrugged, continuing her braid. 

“What’s your name?” she asked, after a moment of silence. 

“Daryl,” the hunter replied. “Dixon.”

The woman nodded.

“I’m Mary-Jane, Capulong,”

Daryl nodded, trying to figure out what kind of last name she had. It wasn’t English or Spanish, wasn't French either.

“What you doin’ out there alone for?” Daryl asked. He didn’t mean to sound concerned, he wasn’t, just… curious and mildly annoyed for some reason. 

Mary-Jane regarded him for a moment before answering. 

“The same thing as you,” she said “surviving,”

It wasn’t a lie, but it sure as hell was evasive, but Daryl didn’t have the patience nor the care to prod her for more answers. He spoke to her, did the damn thing Dale wanted him to do, so now it was done.

Daryl gave Mary-Jane a nod before turning towards the door.

“Hey,” she called out.

“What?”

“I’d look out for that Shane guy…” she said, giving Daryl a look he wasn’t quite sure the meaning of. “He’s a bit, unhinged.”

“Alright,” Daryl nodded once more before leaving the RV. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl learns of his brother's fate, the group discusses their return to Atlanta

The bowman contemplated Mary-Jane’s warning about Shane. Daryl didn't need to be told twice when to watch his back, but he felt like there was something she was getting at that he wasn't seeing. She called him “unhinged”- did she think Shane was losing his mind? 

Despite his dislike for the man, Daryl didn't think he was losing his marbles. He was just an asshole. But still, something about the certainty in Mary-Jane’s voice kept him on edge. 

Daryl went over to Dale who was gingerly holding the string of squirrels he'd handed to him earlier. 

“I talked to ‘er,” Daryl said pointedly. taking the string up animals from the older man.

Dale nodded. 

“Good, that's good son. And you did the right thing bringing her here, she's a nice kid.” 

Daryl merely shrugged one of his shoulders, he wasn't used to compliments. He scanned the camp for his brother, knowing that the group from the city was already back.

He walked over to their section of the camp, calling out for his brother.

“Hey Merle! I got us some squirrel, let's stew ‘em up!” 

Surprisingly there was no response from his usually loudmouthed older brother.

“Merle!” Daryl called out louder, thinking his brother was probably too high to hear him.

“Daryl, why don't you slow up a bit. I need to talk to you.” Shane said.

_ Speak of the damn devil, _ Daryl thought.

“About what?” The bowman asked, turning to face the former cop.

“About Merle,” was Shane's solemn reply. “There was a- a problem, in Atlanta,” 

Daryl's gaze shifted from Shane to the gathering crowd around them. 

A grim realization coiled in the hunter’s stomach. He looked at the ground, not wanting to see Shane's reaction to his next question. 

“He dead?” 

“We're not sure.” Was the response. 

The growing dread caused his temper to flare. He didn't need to be coddled, just a clear answer whether his brother was dead or not.

“He either is or he ain't!” 

Some guy that Daryl had never seen stepped up, Rick Grimes, he introduced himself as. Saying that he handcuffed Merle to a roof in Atlanta, and left him there.

White hot fury blazed in Daryl’s heart, threatening to burn him from the inside out. 

“And you left him there?!” He screamed, glaring at the man, the jailer of his brother, who might as well have been his executioner. 

“Yeah,” was the defeated reply from Grimes. 

Daryl could barely think straight, all he saw was red. He tossed the squirrels he was lugging over his shoulder lunging for Rick. Shane intercepted him, knocking Daryl to the ground. Daryl drew his knife and swung at Rick. Just as quickly as he had drawn the weapon, Shane and Rick had advanced on him and disarmed him, Shane holding him in a choke hold as Rick tried to speak to Daryl. 

He didn't want to hear what the bastard had to say, he didn't care. And with Shane's hold around his neck he could barely breathe or hear what the hell Rick was saying anyway.

Shane released Daryl from the chokehold, who remained on the ground panting from exertion.

With enough air he could now hear Rick's voice, who was crouched in front of him.

“What I did to your brother was not on a whim,” Rick assured him, taking that slow and low tone of voice you'd take with a wild animal. “Your brother does not work well with others. He was a danger to us all,” 

“It's not Rick’s fault, I had the key. I dropped it.” T-Dog spoke up. 

“You couldn't pick it up?” Daryl asked incredulously, his ire had faded and all that was left was exhaustion, confusion, and frustration at the useless, miserable people around him.

T-Dog explained how he chained and padlocked the door of the roof so the geeks couldn't have gotten to Merle, but Daryl didn't buy it. 

He was going to have to bring his brother's body back, if there was anything left to bring.

Daryl swiped at his eyes, his sweat mingling with tears, stinging them something fierce. 

“Hell with all y'all!” He exclaimed, gesturing to Rick, Shane and T-Dog, but also referring to the entire group assembled. How dare they, how  _ dare  _ they leave his brother to die! 

“Just tell me where he is so’s I can go get ‘em.” Daryl internally cursed the waver in his voice. 

Daryl went and sat at his and Merle's section of the camp, getting his things together to head into the city. Rick, who coincidentally was also a cop like Shane said he was going back. Daryl didn't care for the bastard but it was the least he could do after trapping Merle like that. 

The bowman watched as Rick argued with Shane and Lori about going, before enlisting the help of Glenn. T-Dog volunteered as well. 

Daryl didn't understand why, Merle was always antagonizing the single black guy at camp, but he chalked it up to T-Dog feeling guilty for dropping the handcuff keys. 

“Well that’s four people,” Dale said, looking at the small group. 

“Five!” Came a voice from near the RV.

Daryl turned to see Mary-Jane making her way over to the small group.

“I'm going with you,” she said.

Daryl scowled, why the hell would she want to go? He was about to comment when Shane beat him to it.

“Now I don't think that's the best idea MJ,” he said, as he put a hand on her shoulder. She glared narrowly at his touch. “It could get ugly out there, don’t you think you should rest up some before you go looking for a fight?” 

Daryl scoffed. 

“The girl’s probably killed more walkers than you,” he countered. 

He didn’t particularly care whether she came or not, but he could tell from her campsite that she’s been on her own for a while and the set of her jaw told him she has the body count to match. 

“Now c’mon Dixon, don’t tell me you’re backing her up on this?”

“I'm going with or without you all, that's your choice. Mine is that I am going.” MJ stated firmly.

“Why do you need to go?” Glenn asked, trying to ease the growing tension between Shane and Mary-Jane. 

“I'm also looking for someone,” she replied, moving from Shane to answer Glenn.

“Honey, I don't think you should be going, especially with you just getting on your feet,” Lori stated sympathetically. 

“I'm fine now,” Mary-Jane tried to assure the brunette. 

Daryl scowled. He didn't think that she should be going either, but all this debating was wasting time that they could be using to get to Merle. 

Rick and Shane shared a glance.

Daryl was only defending MJ to get the search party on the road. He knew from the conviction in her voice that she wasn't budging on the subject so they might as well let her come. 

“MJ was only unconscious when she got here because of heat stroke,” Dale chimes in. “How many of those things have you killed?” He asked, looking at MJ.

The girl shifted a bit nervously, toying with one of her earrings.

“Too many. Does it really matter?” she replied, glancing from Rick and Shane to Daryl. 

Daryl wasn't exactly keeping track of the amount of geeks he'd killed but something in his gut told him that MJ was far past his own body count. 

Rick was quiet, but Daryl could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Look,” Rick started. “Now I believe you're just as capable, if not more than any of us. But that being said I'd feel a lot better if you were here at camp to watch Shane's back and keep everyone safe.” 

MJ sighed, nodding to herself, as she weighed her options. She locked eyes with Daryl once more, searching his expression for something. 

“Alright,” she said, turning back to Rick. “I'll stay on two conditions,” 

“Sure,” Shane nodded.

“One, you give me a better weapon, it's been made abundantly clear that my pocket knife isn't the most adequate.” MJ said. 

Daryl knew she was talking about his remarks about her knife. 

“Yeah sure we got some stuff you can take your pick of,” Rick replied.

“And two,” MJ continued, fishing something out of her shirt pocket. It was the picture from her wallet, Daryl noted.

“If you see this man in Atlanta, bring him back with you.” 

Shane opened his mouth to argue but Rick cut him off before he could say anything. 

“Deal,” 

MJ nodded, before turning and making her way back to the RV. 

“C'mon let's go!” Daryl hollered from the back of the cube van. Rick and Shane were taking their sweet ass time saying their goodbyes and divvying up ammo. Daylight was burning. 

Finally Rick got into the cab and they began making their way back to Atlanta. Back to Merle. 

Daryl was sitting across from T-Dog in the back of the van. 

“He’d better be okay,”Daryl said to him pointedly. “It’s my only word on the matter.” 

Daryl was serious. He didn’t know what he’d do if he were to find Merle’s corpse, or worse. 

‘I told you the geeks can’t get at him. The only thing that’s gonna get through that door is us.” T-Dog replied. The way that he said it, while looking Daryl right in the face, told him that T-Dog really believed what he was saying. If that was true was another matter. 

When they arrived at the rooftop T-Dog was right. The door to the roof was undisturbed, the chain and padlock in place and had to be cut off. But Merle was gone. 

Everything except his right hand. 

Daryl was horrified yet strangely relieved. His brother was out there, but seriously injured. He took the hand, wrapped it in a bandana from T-Dog and stashed it in Glenn’s bag. If he couldn’t find his brother, he was at least going to bury  _ some _ part of him. 

After their run-in with the Vatos and finally getting Rick’s damn bag of guns, (well around half of the guns as Rick gave the Vatos the other half) the group made their way back to where the van was parked outside of the city. 

Only it wasn’t there.

“We left it right there! Who would take it?” was Glen’s horrified response to the lack-of-van. 

“Merle.” Rick replied, sounding sure as hell. 

Daryl knew it too. His brother was alive and making his way back to the quarry camp to raise some hell. 

“He’s gonna be taking some vengeance back to camp.” Daryl said, looking from T-Dog to Rick. 

They started running. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of summarized the actions of episode four since I thought that it didn't add too much to the story I wanted to tell, as although the story is focused through Daryl's POV it is still also Mary-Jane (MJ's) story as well
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think thus far :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surviving quarry campers deal with the aftermath of the walker herd. Daryl and MJ have a disagreement.

The entire time they were running Daryl was hoping his brother was injured enough not to be driving like the madman he usually was. He knew that if Merle went back to that camp and tried something, Shane was surely going to kill him- hell, maybe even MJ would.   
He didn’t know why, but the thought of the new girl killing his brother turned his gut more than the thought of Shane doing it.   
Maybe it was because Daryl had little to no qualms about killing the former officer, MJ on the other hand, he wasn’t sure he could. And with the way he found her in the forest that second time, he wasn’t too sure he’d even be able to kill her. 

It was already nightfall by the time they were making their way up the mountain. There was the telltale sound of gunfire and some screams. The look on Rick’s face was haunting.   
“We need to get up there,” he said, handing everyone a shotgun. 

The camp was nearly overrun. Daryl hadn’t seen that many walkers outside of the city.   
Point, shoot, and dodge were the only things on his mind in that moment. When he was out of ammo he resorted to bashing the walker’s heads in with the butt of the rifle.   
It seemed to go on forever, each walker he took down being replaced by another. But finally, the gunfire ceased, and so did the moaning of the undead. But the sound that replaced them was worse.   
It was the children first, sobbing for their mothers and fathers. Then it was Andrea, who was holding onto a bloodied Amy. She had been bit at the neck, her body no longer moving.   
“Amy! Amy!” on and on she wailed, shaking her sister, as if to get her to wake up.   
Daryl couldn’t bear to look at the scene, swiping at the tears and sweat that mingled in his eyes with the back of his hand, he surveyed the rest of the wrecked camp.   
He spotted MJ staring out into the woods.   
From her hands to her elbows she was covered in walker blood, staining her skin like ink in the moonlight. The splatter marred her borrowed clothing from Amy. Her hair was wild and falling out of its braid.   
She had a far away look in her eyes. Daryl recognized it not as the look of grief or loss, but being lost.   
She turned and locked her gaze with his own. The deep brown that was her eyes looked black in the dim light. Daryl felt like he was staring to the eyes of someone much, much older than the young women. 

Daryl didn’t think anyone slept that night, the fear and grief were too thick in the air. At first light, he, Glenn, and T-Dog got to separating their dead from the walkers. Daryl used his pickaxe to make sure the dead stayed dead while Glen and T carried them off to either be burned or buried.   
Daryl spotted MJ bringing a cup of water to Andrea, who was still sitting by her sister’s body. The dark haired girl crouched and said something to Andrea before leaving and making her way over to the bodies.   
“Oh, you don’t have to-” Glenn started when he saw MJ approach.   
“No it’s fine, I can help,” she insisted.   
Glenn nodded, too tired to further protest.   
MJ hauled the dead campers that Daryl had been pickaxeing to the truck where they’d be driven to the graves that were being dug.  
They continued in silence until most of the dead were cleared away, and the walkers were piled up and being burned.   
A small group composed of Lori, Rick, Shane, Dale and Carol were assembled a ways away from Andrea, Daryl could hear their furtive whispers as he approached.   
As he made his way over, Daryl heard a second pair of footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at MJ, who was making her way over to the small group as well.   
Daryl caught her eye and nodded at her in acknowledgement.   
They hadn’t said a word to each other since he got back, but Daryl was relieved that she wasn’t among the bodies. They needed all the fighters they could at this point.   
As he and MJ joined the group he caught the tail end of someone saying to leave Andrea be.   
“Y’all can’t be serious,” he whispered fiercely. “The dead girl’s a timebomb.”   
Rick sighed. “What do you suggest?” he asked.   
Daryl narrowed his eyes at Rick, taking a step closer to him as he replied.   
“Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here,” he argued. “Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance.”  
“No,” Lori said firmly. “For god’s sake let her be.”  
Shane looked from Daryl to Rick.   
“It needs to be done,” MJ said, her voice low, all eyes of the group now on her. “But not right now,” she added, looking at Daryl meaningfully.   
He scoffed, so she was being soft too? He hefted his pickaxe onto his shoulder and walked away, not wanting to be a part of their shit-show.   
“You reap what you sow,” he stated bitterly, helping Morales drag a body to the burial pile.  
“You know what, shut up man!’ Morales said.  
Daryl paced to the centre of the loose ring of people doing tasks.   
“Y’all left my brother for dead!” he cried. “You had this coming.”   
He didn’t entirely mean it. Not this much death, but he did feel like this was some kind of punishment. Daryl wasn’t sure where he stood with his stance on God at this point, but if he was out there he was a vengeful bastard.   
“Daryl!” MJ snapped, her eyes blazing.   
Daryl glared right back at her. The hell did she know?   
She turned from him, shaking her head disappointedly.   
It bothered Daryl that that bothered him. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Jacqui cried out that Jim had been bit. The surviving campers had begun to surround Jim.   
“Show it to us,” Daryl demanded.   
Jim raised a shovel to keep them back but T-Dog grabbed his arms from behind. Daryl lifted Jim’s shirt on the side with fresh blood. Human blood.  
He was bit. It was bad, teeth marks and everything, some of JIm’s flesh being torn in a few places in the ring of the bite.  
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Jim repeated over and over. Daryl knew he was trying to reassure himself more than the people gathered. He was a dead man. 

Jim was seated on the bumper of the RV while the rest of the camp had a meeting. They were going to decide what to do with Jim.  
“I say we put a pickaxe in his head, and the dead girl’s,” Daryl said. He was the first to speak. He knew at least one of them was also thinking it, so he might as well put it on the table.   
“Is that what you’d want? If it were you?” Shane asked Daryl incredulously.   
Daryl levelled his gaze.   
“Yeah, and I’d thank you while you did it.” He was saying it for emphasis, but a part of him believed it too.   
Dale sighed. “I hate to say it, ugly as the situation is - but maybe Daryl’s right.”   
The hunter resented the way the old man said it, but appreciated being agreed with. At least someone was seeing sense.   
“Jim’s not a monster Dale, or some rabid dog. He’s sick, He’s a sick man,” Rick said heatedly.   
“I’m not suggesting-”  
Dale was cut off by Rick.  
“We start down that road, where do we draw the line?” The former sheriff asked.  
Daryl scowled at Rick’s moral piddling.   
“The line’s pretty clear,” Daryl said. “Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be.”

Rick and Shane then began arguing about whether their next move should be to the CDC or Fort Benning. Rick arguing for the CDC and finding a possible cure, Shane for the military base. Daryl thought both were a waste of time and resources so he tuned them out.   
He’d made peace with the fact that Rick and Shane were essentially calling the shots. They were cops before everything went to shit. Not that he thought they were necessarily qualified, they weren’t, but the people at camp were too weak to think for themselves and looked to who was a strong leader in their eyes. And that happened to be two jackasses with a lot of guns and pretty ideals.   
Daryl scowled, thinking that’d he’d have to be the one to get the job done while everyone else was standing around debating. He glanced at Jim sitting by the RV, then down at his pickaxe. Just one clean swing, that’s all it would take.   
“You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do,” he addressed the group, beginning to walk over to Jim.   
“Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!” Daryl cried, raising his pickaxe to take a swing at Jim.   
MJ grabbed Daryl’s pickaxe, halting it before he could bring it down on Jim’s head.   
“Daryl,” she said pointedly. “We can’t do it like this.”  
Daryl glared at her and she glared right back with an urgency that told him to think twice.   
“You tellin’ me you don’t see a dead man behind you?!” Daryl asked incredulously. He thought that MJ of all people would understand why they’d have to put Jim down. A bite was a death sentence one way or another.  
“Not like this,” she repeated, still holding firmly onto the pickaxe.   
He blinked, finally understanding what she meant.   
“Fine,” he grunted.  
MJ let go, allowing him to lower the pickaxe.  
He felt Rick lower his gun behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of MJ as a character?   
> Please feel free to leave a comment if you're enjoying the story thus far, it really encourages me and keeps me going :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group deals with the aftermath of the walker attack, and discuss their next move as well as the fate of one of their bitten comrades. Another newcomer arrives from the woods.

The group dispersed for a while, continuing their individual chores and tasks while Rick set Jim up in Dale’s RV. 

Daryl did not see the point. The fever was already getting to Jim, it was only a short matter of time before they had another walker on their hands. 

Daryl was pissed. No one around the damn place was going to admit to themselves that they couldn’t cling to their shiny morals anymore. This wasn’t the old world, that shit died when the military started raining napalm on walkers and civilians alike. It was either kill and survive, or die and come back a walker. 

For some reason, he would have thought MJ would have at least had his back on the Jim situation. He knew for damned sure she’d taken out more walkers than most people in this camp, and that’s with her shitty little pocket knife. Would she really be willing to do that again just so Jim could have a few more hours suffering through the fever? If anything, that was less humane in Daryl’s eyes. They were gonna let Jim suffer just because they don’t like the idea of getting their hands dirty. 

Daryl was sitting by his tent having a smoke when he heard approaching footsteps. It was MJ. 

“Can I sit?” she asked, gesturing to the small stump he was going to cut up for firewood.

He nodded.

She was silent at first, running a hand over her face, exhaustion written all over her. 

“I wasn’t disagreeing with you earlier, I just think- the situation with Jim is delicate. And you were not handling it delicately,” she explained. 

Daryl grunted, blowing a mouthful of smoke in the opposite direction of MJ. 

“Needs to be done. Not like anyone else is gonna do it,” he replied. 

“Look, you’re a practical person, and I respect that, but not everyone here is like that, and not everyone can appreciate your way of looking at things. At least not yet.” 

“So I’m just supposed to sit back and let Jim bite one of them? You know well as I do it’s either put ‘em down or get put down,”

MJ sighed, shaking her head slightly.

“It’s only been a few months since the world went to shit, these people are still dealing with it. These are people who’ve probably never had to make a life or death decision before.”

“The hell do you want me to do about that?” Daryl asked, his temper beginning to flare. 

MJ took a deep breath. 

“I’m  _ asking _ you to take some time to think this through. If you go ahead and kill Jim, you won’t be seen as someone who put down a soon-to-be walker. You’d be a murderer to them.”

“Not like they don’t think that about me already,” Daryl muttered. He could tell out of the corner of his eye that she was looking at him, probably pitying him. He wasn’t looking for sympathy. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. I don’t want you dirtying your hands any more for this. I’ll figure it out,” she replied.

Daryl eyed MJ warily. What exactly did she have in mind?

After a short break to cool off, Daryl got back to pickaxing the remaining walkers and the dead campers bitten by them. Just as he was about to hit the former Ed, his wife Carol came up to him.

“I should do it, he is my husband,” she said tearfully. 

Daryl hesitated a moment, unsure if the mouse of a woman would be able to lift the pickaxe, let alone bash her former husband’s head in with it.

Still, he handed it over to her. 

Still sniffling, Carol raised the pickaxe, and after a moment’s hesitation, brought it down with a sickening  _ squelch _ onto her dead husband’s head. 

He thought she would just leave it at that, but Carol yanked the pickaxe from Ed’s head, only to bring it down again, and again, and again. With each strike, Carol’s muffled whimpers turned into sobs, which were both of anguish and fury.

Daryl knew that Ed was an abusive piece of shit, so he allowed Carol this moment of catharsis. 

When she had finally stopped, Carol’s sobs had diminished once more to whimpers as he handed Daryl the pickaxe. 

He loaded up the remaining bodies and drove up to the top of the mountain, where Rick, Shane and MJ were digging graves. The rest of the people at camp began to filter in, for some makeshift funeral service they were going to have.

Daryl locked eyes with MJ as he made his way over to those digging the graves. She still had the look of disapproval on her face that made his skin itch. 

He looked away from her, facing Rick and Shane. 

“I still think it’s a mistake not burning these bodies,” Daryl said. “It’s what we said we’d do right? Burn ‘em all? Wasn’t that the idea?” 

He didn't know why he was trying to appeal to them, he knew they wouldn’t listen, but still, he had to say his piece. At least try to get them to see reason. Burning the bodies would stop the spread, or at least stop some walkers from popping out of the ground later on like daisies. 

“At first,” Shane replied, stopping his digging to face Daryl and wipe the sweat from his brow. 

“So what? People get all emotional? Says it’s not the thing to do and we just follow along? These people need to know who the hell’s in charge here. What the rules are,” the hunter said, glancing between the two former officers. 

“There are no rules,” Rick said, laying his shovel down and looking at Daryl. 

“Well that’s a problem,” Lori interjected. “We haven’t had one minute to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn, and we need time to bury our dead. It’s what people do.”   
Daryl was pretty sure cremation was common practice, but he didn’t say anything. Knowing Lori she would have just chewed him out. 

He heard the sound of another shovel being thrust into the ground. Daryl turned to see MJ climbing out of the fresh grave she’d dug. She walked off past the incoming group, probably making her way back to camp.

Daryl had expected her to stay and pay her respects, especially given the fact that she was so sentimental about Jim, but maybe she just didn’t do well with funerals. Then again, who did?

Daryl stayed, despite his disapproval of the method, he knew there had to be some due process for people to grieve. 

It was especially hard to watch Andrea heave Amy’s body into the grave. Even with the help of Dale, the woman could barely lift with how much she was sobbing. 

Daryl thought about how hard it would be for him to have to do that for Merle. He tried not to think of it, but at least having a body to bury was better than a severed hand and not knowing if his brother was alive or undead, roaming around somewhere. 

Once every grave was covered, everyone made their way back to camp. Daryl made his way over to the fire pit with everyone else as it seemed like Shane wanted to have one of his usual camp huddles to settle some matters. Most likely which direction they were going to head in tomorrow. 

Andrea was passed out in one of the camping chairs near the Morales family, with Dale and Glenn standing behind her. Lori and Carl were joined by Rick to their left. T-Dog was on the roof of the RV on watch, while Jacqui was inside, tending to Jim. Carol and Sofia were just getting out of their tent when Daryl went to grab one of the empty seats. He glanced around, not seeing MJ.

She was standing a ways away at the edge of the camp, staring out into the forest. 

“MJ!” Shane called out to her. 

She didn’t move. 

Shane heaved a sigh, getting up from his spot to go and fetch her. 

“‘S fine, I got it,” Daryl said, making his way over to MJ. 

Despite her annoyance at him at the moment, Daryl knew that MJ preferred him over Shane. When he was a few feet away from her, Daryl cleared his throat to try and grab her attention. 

She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hands before turning to face him. He expected her to fix him with that disapproving look again, but instead he saw a weariness that was even more troubling. Once again he found himself thinking she looked much older right now. The depth of her gaze mismatched with her otherwise youthful appearance. 

Daryl shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to say something, but he didn't even know what was wrong. 

"C'mon," he managed to blurt out while nodding his head in the direction of the fire pit. He turned and walked back to the group and he was relieved to hear MJ’s footsteps follow. 

Since he’d gotten up, Daryl's seat had been taken by Carol. He didn’t mind too much, given the day she’s had, though he would’ve liked to be off his damn feet for once. He stood on at the opposite end of the fire pit, facing Shane who had his back to the treeline. MJ stood to his right, her arms crossed and her gaze downcast. 

Shane finally spoke up when everyone was settled. 

“I’ve been thinking about Rick’s plan, there are no guarantees either way,” he began, referring to both their options to head to Fort Benning or the CDC. 

“But I’ve known this man a long time,” Shane said, gesturing to Rick. “I trust his instincts.”

Daryl was surprised. He didn’t think Shane would budge so easily, but maybe burying all those bodies jogged the process. He didn’t think there was anything really at the CDC, but he was more sure that the military base was overrun. So the least shitty option of the two shitty options seemed to be what they were going with. 

“I say the most important thing here, is that we need to stay  _ together _ ,” Shane emphasized. “So those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning,” 

There were nods of assent all around the fire pit. People still too low in spirits to verbalize their responses. 

The snapping of twigs by the treeline and rustling branches caught Daryl’s attention. He noticed MJ’s gaze snap to the sound as well. 

A man emerged from the woods.

“Woah, woah!” Shane called out, alerting the rest of the group who drew their weapons. 

Daryl had his shoulder knocked by MJ as she pushed past him towards the stranger.

“Hey!” he cried out in indignance and also to get MJ’s attention. 

“MJ!” Rick hollered, but the girl didn’t listen, only continued walking towards the figure.

Daryl ran after her, along with Shane and Rick, whose guns were drawn. 

Once they were closer Daryl could make out the figure of a man. He wasn’t a walker, but they still didn’t know him. 

He was covered in grime and walker blood, a machete hanging at his hip. 

“MJ back away from him!” Shane hollered, cocking his shotgun. 

She ignored them, 

“Dad!” She cried, leaping at the man when she was close to him. 

The man opened his arms and caught the girl. 

Rick, Shane and Daryl all shared bewildered glanes as they lowered their weapons and approached. 

The trio stood a few paces away from the two embracing. 

Daryl could hear MJ’s relieved sobs. They were a welcomed change from Andrea’s grieved wailing the night before. 

He vaguely made out the features of the guy from the picture in her wallet, although his hair was longer and he was much worse for wear. 

MJ was speaking to him in a language Daryl couldn’t recognize in between her tears. 

The man put his hands on either side of MJ’s face, checking if she was injured. 

Tears of relief fell from his eyes as the man rested his forehead against his daughter’s. 

After a moment, MJ separated from her father, wiping her tears and turning to face the group. 

“This is my Dad,” she said, her pretty face glowing with happiness. “I’ve been looking for him all this time.”

“Well I’ll be,” Daryl heard Shane mutter. “Least one of us is havin’ a good day.”

“I’m Rick Grimes,” Rick introduced himself, holding his hand out to the new man. 

He nodded returning the handshake. 

“Adam Holt,” he replied. 

“This is Shane, and Daryl,” Rick said, gesturing to each man respectively. “Daryl here found your daughter out in the woods a few days ago.”

Adam looked from MJ to Daryl, then back to his daughter. 

“Is this true?” He asked her.

MJ nodded. “I probably would have died if he hadn’t found me,”

“Then for that I can never truly repay you, but you have my thanks.”

Daryl nodded at the older man,

The look that Adam gave him made him uncomfortable; it was too grateful for his liking. He didn’t actually save MJ’s life, he just-- decided to help her. 

“Well Mr. Holt, before we can let you in our camp I’m afraid we gotta ask you a few questions,” Shane said, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. 

MJ glared at Shane. 

“Can’t you do this after he’s at least had a chance to sit down?!” she snapped. 

Adam put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. 

“It is fine, he is just doing his due diligence.”

MJ frowned but didn’t say anything further. 

Daryl noted the odd cadence of Adam’s speech. He spoke slowly, but not in a drawl like himself and the others.

“Have you been bitten or scratched by the walkers?” Shane asked. 

Adam shook his head. “No, the gore you see on me was how I escaped the city.”

Rick made a sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. 

“If they can’t smell you, you can walk right by ‘em,” the former Sheriff replied with a nod.

Shane looked from Rick to Adam, who seemed to have had a silent conversation with their eyes. From what Daryl could see they had some kind of mutual understanding. Rick’s posture visibly relaxed after the exchange. 

“How’d you find us?” Daryl asked. 

“I told Mary-Jane to wait for me here near the quarry. I saw the smoke from your fires as I was heading up the mountain,”

Daryl nodded, so he’d only got out of the city recently. He wondered if he'd seen Merle, but decided against asking. It was too much of a long shot.

“Our camp was swarmed last night, a whole herd of ‘em came up. Lost a lot of our people. We were burnin’ the walkers, probably the smoke you saw.” Shane said solemnly. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,”

“We’re going to be leaving here soon, the gunfire last night probably drew more towards us. It isn’t safe here anymore.” said Rick. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“But first you need to rest,” MJ insisted. After a moment, she added, “And change your clothes.”

Adam snorted at the quip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are your thoughts on the newcomer Adam?   
> Please leave a comment if you enjoy this fic! It really encourages me to write more :)


End file.
